


The Scars We Leave

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Plug, Branding, Coming Untouched, Demon Dean Winchester, Implied Bottom Dean, Light BDSM, M/M, No Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-12-03 07:33:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11527536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Now that Dean's a demon, he's a little tired of his anti-possession tattoo. Crowley has an idea to fix it.





	The Scars We Leave

**Author's Note:**

> Written for SPN Kink Bingo 2017  
> Square Filled: Branding

“I got a question.”

“You always ‘got a question’ Dean. What is it?”

Dean glared over at Crowley. He sat up from the hotel bed, scratching his bare stomach. “Why’s my anti-possession tattoo not bother me?”  
Crowley glanced up from whatever he was writing at the desk and looked over. “I’d assume it has something to do with the fact that your soul was demonized inside your body, rather than possessing a meatsuit.”

“It feels weird having it,” Dean admitted, tracing the edges of the tattoo as he spoke.

“Would you like me to remove it?”

“Can you? I mean—Since I’m a super healer now or whatever.”

Crowley snorted. “Course I can. I’m Crowley. It’ll cost you though.”

Dean rolled his eyes, his lips curling up into a smirk. “What’s it gonna cost me? My soul?”

“Good God no, you can keep that. I like that in your pretty little meatsuit. No… I think you know what it’ll cost you.”

Dean’s tongue darted out between his lips, his eyes narrowing. “Oh, that.”

“That.”

“You got yourself a deal, Crowley.”

***

Dean shook his head, trying to get the sweat out of his eyes as it threatened to blind him. He raised himself up with the shackles around his arms, trying to get some relief from his stretched out, aching legs, but his arms wouldn’t support much more either. The rough metal bit into his wrists, threatening to draw blood now that his powers were hampered by the demon proofing that had been carved into them.

He knew the second he lifted one foot from the box he’d slip from the other box, spaced so far he could barely reach it as it was. Slipping meant losing, ending up with the fake cock shoved up his aching ass as he dangled just centimeters above it. But more importantly, slipping meant Crowley would win. Again.

“You know—We both end up enjoying this, why do you make it a game?” Dean panted.

“Because I like watching you squirm. Your need for winning and power makes it all the more fun because even though you _love_ the feeling of that toy slipping into your ass… You still resist it. You still hang on because you think you just _might_ be able to beat me. You couldn’t beat me as a human, Dean. And you can’t beat me now.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed. His foot finally slipped from the box and he went down, tossing his head back with a shout as the entire eight inches of the thick dildo slid into his lubed hole. His cock began to spurt as he came, shuddering. He rode the toy weakly, his toes barely touching the ground.

He let his shoulders relax, when his body stopped shaking, glad the toy at least had some sort of a base he could rest on, rather than just the thin rod holding up the dildo. After regaining his breath, he looked up at Crowley.

“Well you won again. Now will you do it?”

“Are you sure, Dean? It’s a part of you, a big part of your history.”

“I want it gone, Crowley,” Dean said again.

“Alright. And you’re sure you want the new design? You like it?”

Dean nodded.

Crowley walked over to the table in the far corner of the makeshift dungeon. He put on a heavy glove before snagging the branding iron and propane torch before walking back to Dean.

“It will hurt.”

“I’m sure I’ve had worse. You’re really gonna do it with this toy up my ass?”

“Guaranteed that you won’t jerk away from me. Just hold still, yeah? I don’t want to mess this up.”

Dean smirked a little. Crowley was a dick – but he cared in his own way. He watched as Crowley lit the torch, heating up the carved chunk of iron.

“Take a deep breath, but keep breathing,” Crowley instructed. He turned off the torch and set it down before grabbing Dean’s shoulder with his bare hand. He pressed the red hot iron down over his tattoo.

Immediately Dean’s skin began to smoke and hiss, the smell of burning flesh filling the room. Dean choked on the scream that he tried to let out; it came out a rather weak sob instead. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was aware his cock was hardening again, another orgasm approaching fast and hard. He could barely feel it though, the feeling of the branding iron shutting off all other awareness.

When Crowley pulled the iron back, Dean went limp, his breath coming in heaving pants. He was coming, his hips jerking on the dildo inside him as his cock dribbled onto the floor. His vision was fading, greying around the edges. Distantly, he could hear Crowley speaking, but couldn’t bring himself to even speak, let alone look up at him.

***

When Dean came to, he was in a fluffy, warm bed. He could feel the heat of another person near him, turning his head he saw Crowley, reading over some papers on a clipboard.

“Crowley.”

Crowley looked over, immediately setting aside the board. “You’re up. How are you feeling?”

“Weirdly human,” Dean admitted. “Like I’m hungover or something.”

“The branding iron. And the demon proofing.”

Dean glanced at his wrists, scowling at the bands of metal around them. It wasn’t iron, but it had intricate symbols carved around it.

“Why?” He murmured.

“Needed to keep your powers suppressed for a while, until your new tattoo heals up a little more.”

Dean looked down, surprised to see his chest covered in a light bandage.

“Can I see?”

“Of course.” Crowley reached over, grabbing his cell phone. He passed it to Dean before pulling the bandages off carefully.

Dean flipped to the camera and grinned widely. On his chest, neatly covering the tattoo, was Dean’s new sigil. It was a design he and Crowley worked out together – a blending of Cain’s demonic sigil, plus bits of Dean’s own name in bastardized Enochian. It was one of the most beautiful things he’d ever seen.

“Of course, the tattoo will show through in splotches, once it’s healed and scarred over.”

“I know, but this—It’s perfect. Even with the tattoo showing – It’s better that way.”

Crowley made a small sound of approval. “It does suit you.”

Dean handed the phone back to Crowley and leaned over, pressing a kiss to his mouth. “Thank you.”

“It’s my pleasure, Dean.”

“So how long do I have to keep these cuffs on?”

“Just a few more days. We’ll put them back on if the brand seems to be healing too quickly, but with how deep it went, and with the use of real iron rather than a mixed metal – we shouldn’t have problems.”

Dean nodded, letting Crowley place a fresh bandage over the wound. “Is that why it hurt so bad? I’ve been burned before, as a human – it never hurt like that.”

“Yes, the iron reacted to you, making it hurt worse.”

“I get why you kept me on the Impaler,” Dean agreed.

“Speaking of… You passed out before we could finish playing.”

Dean grinned then. “Oh yeah, I guess I did… What do you wanna do about that?”

“Beat your ass raw, perhaps?” Crowley suggested.

“Gonna do it while I’m on the toy?”

“Oh of course – you can’t move that way.”

Dean’s grin grew even wider, showing almost all his teeth. “Well what are we waiting for?”


End file.
